Two simple words, my facebook status, summed up my Saturday. I woke up to two little snugly boys in between my husband and I, sleepily smiling and silently waving to one another. We lazed around a bit and then decided to go downtown and enjoy the beautiful February weather. We hit up one of our favorite shops to make Valentines and play, then got a quick bite to eat at a neat little organic restaurant with a cozy atmosphere. The morning was rounded out by grocery shopping with the big car cart and naps for all. We then had a spontaneous pizza party with good friends and ended the day with Dora and "Happy Birthday Hamster." On Sunday morning, at the breakfast table, my husband looked at me and said, "I love our life." Me too! It is truly fantastic!
Monday, February 11, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Being the Mom
***I roughly wrote this a few weeks ago and forgot to polish and publish. I decided not to polish it. I like the raw emotion and frustration portrayed by my draft.
Being the Mom is hard. Harder than I ever imagined. Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure being the Dad is tough to, but I can only speak for being the Mom. Some of the things that define my role as mom:
*I am the one they run to when they are hurt
*I am the one who they cuddle with when they are sick
*I read the best stories
*I know the right toys to pack in the church bag
*I don't ever forget the blankies and loves when we go somewhere
*I get the brunt of their anger and crabbiness at the end of a long day
After a wonderful family weekend, it was tough for everyone to go back to the weekly routine. I didn't particularly want to go to work (so much so, that I shut off my alarm this morning - luckily my internal clock did the job instead), the 3 year old cried about going to daycare, and neither boy napped well today. Needless to say, today lived up to every stigma ever put on "Monday."
I worry about my children all day every day. No one told me (or maybe I didn't listen or understand) that once you are a mother, once those children are no longer in your body, under your heart, the worry is just beginning. It is like letting a piece of your heart walk around unattended 24/7...the true meaning of wearing your heart on your sleeve. As a mother, your child's cries make your own heart ache. The injustices of life become twice as painful for a mother because of the inability to protect children from every cruel lesson life has to offer. People I once thought I would give my own life for have now become the same ones I would push in front of a train if it meant I could save my own child. A mother's love knows no rational boundaries. Some days I wish I could be the dad. I don't really know how it feels, but it looks like fun. Shovel snow, wrestle, love mom. Seems much simpler than what I do every day. When I really think about it though, I would never want to give up that bound of mother to child. I carried these children for nine months. I knew them before anyone else but God. I had nine months with them that no other person got to experience. I nursed them every day for over a year and sustained their lives with mine. There are some things I would not give up, even for a day of shoveling and wrestling.
Being the Mom is hard. Harder than I ever imagined. Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure being the Dad is tough to, but I can only speak for being the Mom. Some of the things that define my role as mom:
*I am the one they run to when they are hurt
*I am the one who they cuddle with when they are sick
*I read the best stories
*I know the right toys to pack in the church bag
*I don't ever forget the blankies and loves when we go somewhere
*I get the brunt of their anger and crabbiness at the end of a long day
After a wonderful family weekend, it was tough for everyone to go back to the weekly routine. I didn't particularly want to go to work (so much so, that I shut off my alarm this morning - luckily my internal clock did the job instead), the 3 year old cried about going to daycare, and neither boy napped well today. Needless to say, today lived up to every stigma ever put on "Monday."
I worry about my children all day every day. No one told me (or maybe I didn't listen or understand) that once you are a mother, once those children are no longer in your body, under your heart, the worry is just beginning. It is like letting a piece of your heart walk around unattended 24/7...the true meaning of wearing your heart on your sleeve. As a mother, your child's cries make your own heart ache. The injustices of life become twice as painful for a mother because of the inability to protect children from every cruel lesson life has to offer. People I once thought I would give my own life for have now become the same ones I would push in front of a train if it meant I could save my own child. A mother's love knows no rational boundaries. Some days I wish I could be the dad. I don't really know how it feels, but it looks like fun. Shovel snow, wrestle, love mom. Seems much simpler than what I do every day. When I really think about it though, I would never want to give up that bound of mother to child. I carried these children for nine months. I knew them before anyone else but God. I had nine months with them that no other person got to experience. I nursed them every day for over a year and sustained their lives with mine. There are some things I would not give up, even for a day of shoveling and wrestling.
"For I Know the Plans I Have For You"
Jeremiah 29:11
New International Version (NIV)
11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
I must remind myself of this verse on days like today. Things have not been going well with daycare. We have a wonderful daycare provider. Over the past year, her life has been plagued with tragedy. It is only natural for these events to have taken their toll on her. However, in this situation, I am the mother and my number one priority is the care of my children regardless of what scars life has left on another. I want so badly to be able to stay home with my children, at least part of the time, but this does not seem to be in the cards for me. I don't want someone else raising my children while I work to pay them to do so. But if this is where I need to be, if work is where I need to go, then my mother's heart needs to know that whomever is caring for my children, is doing so with every shred of love and kindness in their heart. We are all human, we ere. I make mistakes that affect my children. I am no more perfect than the next parent of caregiver. I get that. All I can do is pray.
I pray for guidance.
I pray for understanding.
I pray for wisdom.
I pray for an open heart.
I pray for my children.
I say a prayer of thanks for all I have already been given.
I must remind myself of this verse on days like today. Things have not been going well with daycare. We have a wonderful daycare provider. Over the past year, her life has been plagued with tragedy. It is only natural for these events to have taken their toll on her. However, in this situation, I am the mother and my number one priority is the care of my children regardless of what scars life has left on another. I want so badly to be able to stay home with my children, at least part of the time, but this does not seem to be in the cards for me. I don't want someone else raising my children while I work to pay them to do so. But if this is where I need to be, if work is where I need to go, then my mother's heart needs to know that whomever is caring for my children, is doing so with every shred of love and kindness in their heart. We are all human, we ere. I make mistakes that affect my children. I am no more perfect than the next parent of caregiver. I get that. All I can do is pray.
I pray for guidance.
I pray for understanding.
I pray for wisdom.
I pray for an open heart.
I pray for my children.
I say a prayer of thanks for all I have already been given.
To Read or Not to Read...That is NEVER a Question
I love to read! Those who know me know this well. As a kid, I would take stacks of books everywhere, including bumping along in the tractor (I had the ability to sleep in the tractor as well if that tells you anything).
What I am reading now:
1. Overcoming Dyslexia for Dummies
2.The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest
3. Wonderstruck
Top 20 Books I MUST read soon:
1. Anna Karenina (and THEN see the movie)
2. The Storyteller
3. The Devil in the White City
4.Small Damages by Beth Kephart
5. Gone Girl
6. A Walk Across the Sun by Corban Addison
7. Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo
8.
9. Wicked Appetite - (an "easy" "fluffy" read)
10. A Secret Kept
11. Two Kisses for Maddy - (only when I have my anxiety under control)
12. Unbroken
13. The Round House by Louise Erdich
14. Floors #2: 3 Below (a children's novel - think Charlie and the Chocolate Factory)
15. The Casual Vacancy (author of the Harry Potter books)
16.The House I Loved by Tatiana de Rosnay
17. & 18 InkSpell and InkDeath (fascinating fantasy series for young adults)
20. The Kitchen House
What I am reading now:
1. Overcoming Dyslexia for Dummies
2.
Top 20 Books I MUST read soon:
1. Anna Karenina (and THEN see the movie)
2. The Storyteller 3. The Devil in the White City4.Small Damages by Beth Kephart
5. Gone Girl6. A Walk Across the Sun by Corban Addison
7. Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo
8. 9. Wicked Appetite - (an "easy" "fluffy" read)10. A Secret Kept11. Two Kisses for Maddy - (only when I have my anxiety under control)12. Unbroken14. Floors #2: 3 Below (a children's novel - think Charlie and the Chocolate Factory)
15. The Casual Vacancy (author of the Harry Potter books)
17. & 18 InkSpell and InkDeath (fascinating fantasy series for young adults)
19. Shadow of a Night (book 2 in a triology)
20. The Kitchen House
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Memories
I had a dream last night complete with a cast of characters from my past. It was not a nightmare, but it was not a happy, fluffy dream either. I woke up tangled in my blankets, sweating. As I lay awake listening to the breathing of my sons (one cuddled up right next to me and the other in the room next door), I thanked God for that dream. It may sound odd, to wake sweaty and be thankful. But, I was happy to have woken up and I was happy I could remember. My past isn't all unicorns and rainbows, a life well lived never is, in my opinion. I thanked God for my past, because the scars have made me who I am. The people I have loved and lost have shaped me into who I am today. All things, both the good and the bad, have helped me know what I want, to know that the fear of losing or being hurt, can only ruin the enjoyment of what is happening right now. As I lay there, I took slow deep breaths, I kicked my feet out of the blankets, and I thanked God that it was just a dream. I thanked God for those beautiful sleeping boys. I thanked God for waking up and I thanked God for the gift of remembering.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Playdates and Oreos
So on Wednesday of last week, my husband and I decided we would have a little Superbowl party. My husband sent a mass text and I prepared a menu. As things often go though, our plans went awry. Apparently you need to decide sooner than five days in advance to have a Superbowl party. Needless to say almost all of our friends already had plans. The exception was a close friend of ours (her husband made her a Superbowl widow to attend a "man" party, need I say more...really though, I do like him too :) and her 6 month old son. Our Superbowl party quickly turned into a play date and a weeks worth of eating spinach dip, monster cookie bars, and chili. To be honest, that is kind of more my speed anyway!
***
My oldest son is a mini me of my husband. In looks, he is my husband all over again. His spunk, well maybe he is what happens when two type A personalities have a baby! Mostly though, he is his own person. Spunky, quick on his feet, smart, articulate (for a three year old), imaginative, funny, outgoing, kind hearted, handsome, sweet, loving, loud, sensitive...I am his mother, the list could go on. The one thing I know for certain he got from me is his love of Oreo cookies. Peanut butter, mint, confetti cake, double stuff, black and white...he, WE, love them all. As a child, my paternal grandparents kept a Tupperware container (you know the one...cylindrical, opaque, with a cream colored lid, held about 2 quarts) full of Oreo cookies just for me. Hidden behind the bread box, fruit bowl, and dry goods containers on the counter, it was one of the first things I went for when I visited. I was not required to share my cookies with anyone else, but when someone did want one, I had a process. I am not ashamed to admit that I knew the Oreo cookie jingle by heart, still do, and I used this knowledge against anyone who wanted to share my cookies. It was simple, sing the song, get a cookie. Want another? Sing the song again. We do not have a cookie jar, but my three year old does know the old jingle. However, he is smarter than I am and works his cookie addiction into everyday bargaining. Some Oreo funny-isms from my three year old are as follows:
Several nights ago -
Husband: Do you want a snack?
Three year old: Yes.
Husband: (Using best love and logic) You can have a yogurt or a banana.
Three year old: (without missing a beat) or an Oreo cookie. Yeah how about that? That would be good.
This morning -
Background: We are all fighting colds, coughing, runny noses, etc...
Three year old: Coughing
Me: Oh man, that is a bad cough.
Three year old: Yeah, you know what would make my cough better mom? An Oreo cookie. Yeah that would be good, right mom?
Gotta love his persuasive efforts!
***
My oldest son is a mini me of my husband. In looks, he is my husband all over again. His spunk, well maybe he is what happens when two type A personalities have a baby! Mostly though, he is his own person. Spunky, quick on his feet, smart, articulate (for a three year old), imaginative, funny, outgoing, kind hearted, handsome, sweet, loving, loud, sensitive...I am his mother, the list could go on. The one thing I know for certain he got from me is his love of Oreo cookies. Peanut butter, mint, confetti cake, double stuff, black and white...he, WE, love them all. As a child, my paternal grandparents kept a Tupperware container (you know the one...cylindrical, opaque, with a cream colored lid, held about 2 quarts) full of Oreo cookies just for me. Hidden behind the bread box, fruit bowl, and dry goods containers on the counter, it was one of the first things I went for when I visited. I was not required to share my cookies with anyone else, but when someone did want one, I had a process. I am not ashamed to admit that I knew the Oreo cookie jingle by heart, still do, and I used this knowledge against anyone who wanted to share my cookies. It was simple, sing the song, get a cookie. Want another? Sing the song again. We do not have a cookie jar, but my three year old does know the old jingle. However, he is smarter than I am and works his cookie addiction into everyday bargaining. Some Oreo funny-isms from my three year old are as follows:
Several nights ago -
Husband: Do you want a snack?
Three year old: Yes.
Husband: (Using best love and logic) You can have a yogurt or a banana.
Three year old: (without missing a beat) or an Oreo cookie. Yeah how about that? That would be good.
This morning -
Background: We are all fighting colds, coughing, runny noses, etc...
Three year old: Coughing
Me: Oh man, that is a bad cough.
Three year old: Yeah, you know what would make my cough better mom? An Oreo cookie. Yeah that would be good, right mom?
Gotta love his persuasive efforts!
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Pirates and Football
My husband and I have had the "who runs the ship" conversation at our house on multiple occasions. Of course, on multiple occasions we have also decided, hands down, I do. In the past I have likened our roles to pirates...get it, ships - pirates, myself being the captain and my husband the first mate. I have often said, "you are a great first mate, but the captain you are not." This is true, but everyone knows what happens to the captain without a good first mate, right!?! Well in case you didn't know, the captain ends up walking the plank. Not a happy ending and I for one am a fan of happy endings.
This conversation came up again this morning..."who runs the ship?" In honor of the Superbowl being tomorrow, my husband said, "Well you are the quarterback, but I'm a darn good receiver." He is in fact a darn good reciever and I am thankful we are on the same team.
Moral of the story: choose your first mate (or receiver) wisely.
This conversation came up again this morning..."who runs the ship?" In honor of the Superbowl being tomorrow, my husband said, "Well you are the quarterback, but I'm a darn good receiver." He is in fact a darn good reciever and I am thankful we are on the same team.
Moral of the story: choose your first mate (or receiver) wisely.
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